


Scar (Kizuato)

by MidoriKurenaiYume



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Arguing, Dialogue, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidoriKurenaiYume/pseuds/MidoriKurenaiYume
Summary: Single parent Gilgamesh can no longer avoid his thirteen-year-old daughter's questions about her late mother.





	Scar (Kizuato)

**Author's Note:**

> As you may guess, not exactly a cheerful story. Hope you like it though :)
> 
> Title: from a great Kalafina song, B-side of their 1st single and also part of the album 'Seventh Heaven'.

...

When she asked him such a question, Aileen already knew what his reaction was going to be, because she had witnessed it many times before.

As expected, Gilgamesh’s face darkened instantly.

“Go to your room,” he snapped, without looking at her.

She barely managed to hold back her fury. _Again_. Every time she tried to ask questions about her mother, her father would close up and dismiss her immediately. But she had had enough now.

“I won’t,” she snapped right back.

He glared at her, crimson eyes blazing, but she didn’t allow that to deter her, no matter how frightening his glare was.

“I’m tired of you refusing to say anything, Dad. I want to know who my mother was!”

She took a deep breath, preparing herself to deliver the rest of the speech she had been mentally rehearsing for months.

“All you ever say is that you love her. But if that’s true, why do you never speak of her? Why do you dismiss me when I ask questions? Why do you never allow me to find out about her? The little I do know is only thanks to Uncle Enkidu, but you forbade him from telling me anything else once you found out I asked him! Therefore I can only reach one conclusion.” She swallowed. “I know you usually don’t lie to me, Dad, but about my mother… about my mother, are you actually lying? Is it even true that you love her? Do you _truly_ care about her? Or is it just a _lie_ –?”

“It _isn’t_.” Gilgamesh’s voice came out as a deadly hiss, and Aileen stopped talking right away, inhaling sharply.

She had never seen her father so furious, or at least, not at her. But again, she didn’t let it stop her, and swallowed once more as her voice became much more subdued, yet not any less firm.

“Then let me know her.” She was almost pleading now. “I’m not so little anymore, and I want to know about my mother. Please, I want… I would like to know about the woman you love so deeply. And I would like _you_ to tell me about her.”

“She is dead, Aileen,” came Gilgamesh’s voice after a long pause. His tone was strained, and he was clearly fighting to keep himself sufficiently composed. “She is _dead_ , and no amount of talking will make me forget that she passed away – nor will it bring her back.”

Aileen’s fists clenched.

“Dad, why do you refuse to see my point?” she countered, her voice coming out as a whisper. “I _know_ that she’s dead. I _know_ that she won’t come back. But that doesn’t mean you have the right to deprive me of her memory, nor to keep her memory to yourself! I want to know my mother, the woman she was, and I want to know _why_ you loved her so much… I want to know her – so please,” she managed to make sure her voice didn’t crack, “ _please_ tell me about her.”

Another long silence followed. Gilgamesh’s expression didn’t change.

“Your stubbornness is exactly like your mother’s,” he suddenly commented, his tone oddly gruff.

Aileen’s eyes narrowed though, and she contradicted him, “No, Dad. My stubbornness is like _yours_. Whether or not my mother was stubborn, I wouldn’t know. I don’t know almost _anything_ about her.”

Her voice rose. “I don’t _remember_ her,” she was almost screaming now, “I don’t know anything about her because _you_ refuse to tell me anything! I don’t know if she loved you too, if she loved _me_ , I don’t even know what she looked like because there are no pictures of her _anywhere_!”

“I don’t wish to have any pictures of her around,” Gilgamesh interrupted his daughter, an edge to his voice again.

She wasn’t deterred though, and insisted, “Why?”

His voice suddenly lowered, a flash of pain crossing his features.

“Because they are nothing but cheap imitations of who she was, and I will only have her, no one – and nothing – else.”

His fist slammed against the table, and he stood up suddenly. “And they will not bring her back.”

Aileen did not say anything. The pain on her father’s face was raw, heart-wrenching to see. She could not doubt his love for her mother any longer.

Slowly, Gilgamesh managed to compose himself again and then fell back on his chair, looking as if he had made his decision.

“Your mother…” he finally uttered, “Arturia…” his face contorted slightly at pronouncing her name, but he managed to keep a rigid control over his reaction nonetheless, “Arturia loved you.”

He paused briefly, before continuing, now looking directly at his daughter, “After you were born, even though she was covered in blood and was already fading away…” Aileen couldn’t break the gaze, almost hypnotized by her father’s words, “…she asked to hold you. And she smiled at you.”

His hands were white as he gripped the table. “The internal bleeding couldn’t be stopped, and dying of blood loss is… very slow, and painful. Horribly painful, yet she refused painkillers. The following hours were her last, but she never stopped holding you… and my hand… until she had no more strength to do so.”

Aileen tried to swallow once again, but she was able to do so only after several tries. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks. She had been told before that her mother had died after giving birth to her, but she had not known the details.

After a long silence, she forced the words out.

“Did she make you promise to look after me?”

Gilgamesh’s face contorted again, this time in a strange grimace, as if he actually wanted to smile but the memories were too painful for him to do so.

“She didn’t, because there was no need to.” His crimson eyes were still on hers, which were the same colour, and she stared back at him. “She knew I would love you and look after you. She knew that no matter how much her death would be the worst loss I’d ever suffer and would be a deep and inerasable scar, I wouldn’t neglect our child.” His eyes were filled with pain again. “Had she been in my place, she would have done the same.”

His features then distended slightly and he gave her a half-hearted glare. “I know that Arturia would have been able to put up better with your stubbornness though.”

Aileen managed to smile at that, but she wasn’t going to let go of this opportunity to ask him more.

“What was she like as a person, Dad?”

Gilgamesh was silent for so long that she had to start to wonder if she was going to get a reply at all.

“She was obviously very stubborn,” he finally said. “She was… naïve at times, usually quite oblivious to things that were evident, very outspoken when she felt that something was wrong, and… far too serious.” He let out a strange chuckle. “She was so incredibly full of paradoxes, and she was so infuriating, so impossible, that we argued most of the time…” Aileen’s eyes widened as years of pain appeared on her father’s face, aging him up in an almost frightening way, “…and yet I loved her so much for all her contradictions.”

Aileen tried to crack a weak grin, her emotions almost getting the best of her.

“How did you have the time to have me then, if you were always arguing?”

She was unable to continue after saying that, but Gilgamesh weakly grinned back at her.

It was several minutes before he spoke again, and he seemingly changed the subject entirely.

“Have you ever wondered why I took you to so many places, Aileen? Or why we go to England every year, even though there are no relatives of ours there?”

She could only stare at him in confusion, and a very small smile curved Gilgamesh’s lips.

“Arturia was from England,” he explained simply. “It was her home, and she loved it. When she was pregnant, she told me about all the things she wanted to do with you, all the places she wanted to show you. They weren’t my choice, but I knew, and Arturia knew, that you would enjoy them, therefore I took you there.”

Unexpectedly, Aileen jumped to her feet, fresh tears threatening to run down her cheeks, but she stubbornly kept them at bay as she glared at her father with all her might.

Her resentment at her father’s silence was back in full force.

“And you couldn’t have told me any of this before?” she screamed. “All these years, couldn’t you have _mentioned_ my mother? Every time we went to England, couldn’t you have told me it was your beloved wife’s homeland instead of keeping quiet? Instead of ignoring my questions, couldn’t you have told me _something_ about her? About the woman you love so much? About my _mother_?”

Her cheeks were flaming red, her eyes swollen with angry tears that she still refused to let fall. “Don’t you think that, as her child, I have the right to know about her instead of growing up without ever hearing you even speak her _name_?”

Gilgamesh got to his feet as well.

“I miss her,” he stated coldly, bluntly. “I miss her too much to talk so openly about her.”

But Aileen didn’t back down.

“Do you think you’re the only one who misses her!?” she screamed. “You don’t think that I might miss a mother? A mother _I never had the opportunity to know!?_ ”

Gilgamesh’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“Aileen,” his voice was icy, “you wouldn’t understand. You _don’t_ understand,” he repeated, undeterred by her snort of anger, “because _you don’t love her_.”

“Of course I don’t love her!” she shouted, her voice overpowering his. “I never even _knew_ her! Because you never _allowed_ me to know her, because you were _selfish_ , because you never told me anything about her and never let me _know_ enough about her so that I could love _my own mother!_ ”

She couldn’t hold back her tears anymore, even though she hated crying, but she didn’t miss the way her father’s eyes widened slightly.

“Dad,” her voice broke, “I _want_ to know my mother, even though she’s gone. I _want_ to love her. But I can’t do that if you don’t let me know anything about her, if you don’t teach me to love her.”

She looked into his eyes, her tears still falling. “Nothing can bring her back, I am aware of that. But I still want to know her. I want to learn to love her.”

He turned away from her, but only to pick up a few tissues and, to her surprise, handing them to her. After a second of hesitation, she took them, and dried her face carefully.

Before she fully realized it, she was in her father’s arms, held in one of his rare embraces.

“I can do that, Aileen.” Gilgamesh’s voice was slightly muffled, but it was steady.

He sighed, then pulled back, just enough to be able to meet her gaze once again.

“It’s not going to be easy,” he warned.

She could still see the pain in his eyes, but he was smiling now.

Her father never smiled – not unless he meant it.

“But for you, and for Arturia, I will endeavour to do that.”

...


End file.
